


And to Feel Your Touch This Way

by blastellanos



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 13:03:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7846132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blastellanos/pseuds/blastellanos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pretty well plotless porn, Nick comes to cheer J.D. up after a loss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And to Feel Your Touch This Way

**Author's Note:**

> This was just to make me feel better about the loss on Saturday night. No slander intended. Title from "Through the Other Side" by Riverside.

Maybe he shouldn’t. 

No-- a maybe implies a plausibile deniability. He definitely should not. Nick has a hard time helping himself. It’s bad enough to not be able to be on the field and helping. It’s worse when they’re losing and he thinks he can make some sort of difference. He wishes he could will himself to heal faster. 

Even now, Nick isn’t really fit for it. He’s driving one handed, using his knee to help go through the curves. He can’t grip the steering wheel with his left hand. It’s so fucking stupid to be here but he can’t help himself. He’d waited.

Nick had waited as long as he could. Nick also feels that J.D. could use a friendly face. Someone to commiserate with. At least ease some of the frustration. Nick wasn’t real fit to play video games with J.D. but he could probably have a couple of beers and hang out with him.

J.D. answers the door with a sort of mix of surprise and lingering feelings of discontent from the game. 

“I brought beer,” Nick says. There was a grocery bag on his elbow with a six pack in it. He sees J.D.’s nostrils flare, briefly, before he’s stepping aside to let him in. 

“Should you even be drinking?” J.D. asks, already in the kitchen looking for a bottle opener. Nick shrugs a little as he follows him in there. 

“I dunno,” Nick says. “But I don’t care either. I’ll just have one.” 

One, very quickly, turns into several. On top of the six pack Nick had brought, J.D. had his own beer. And some  _ Patrón _ and a couple shots later, everything was fuzzy and dulled. Which was-- well it was nice. Except J.D. was drinking too and he had to play tomorrow. 

“You should slow down,” Nick says, trying to be the mature one, even as he says that through uncontainable drunken giggles. J.D. hasn’t seemed to relax, though. In fact, his eyes had gotten even darker, the line of his mouth more sullen-- corners of it disappearing into the edges of his beard. His knuckles are white where he’s holding the glass. So Nick frowns and wiggles a little, facing more towards J.D. 

One handed, it’s a little more difficult to ply the glass from J.D.’s fingers. But he feels the tension there, almost can feel the pain radiating from his knuckles, looking at the angry red in the rest of his fingers. The plying turns to a gentle sort of pet, trying to ease tension. He fits his fingers into the spaces between J.D.’s and makes a sort of soothing sound. 

“It’s alright,” Nick says. It’s not as convincing as he wanted it to be. He wanted to reassure, to make everything okay. But these were cracks that only wins could fix. The kind of breakdown near the end of the season where you  _ needed _ to win. They were close to slipping out of the race; they had to be better. J.D.’s still not relaxing and it’s something Nick  _ needs _ . He isn't sure why. 

J.D. isn't the one off of his game, but Nick can see the rising frustration. He doesn't blame him at all and Nick just wants to make it better. He keeps his hand on J.D.’s and for a moment they just sit there like that. 

Nick slides off of the couch and kneels down between his spread thighs. 

“Put the glass down,” Nick says. 

“What are you doing?” J.D. asks. Nick bit his lower lip and slid his good hand on J.D.’s thigh. J.D. was just looking down at him, eyes a little dark, long lashes fluttering a bit. 

Nick looks up at him, hand still resting there, and tries to steady his breathing. 

“I just want to help you relax?” Nick says, voice lilting up a tiny bit. It's almost like a question and J.D. closes his eyes and drops his head against the back of the couch. 

Nick is quiet for a moment and he leans in and kisses the inside of J.D.’s thigh through his jeans. Then he rests his head there and just looks up at J.D. and waits. 

J.D. shifts beneath him just slightly and then he settles a hand in Nick's hair. 

“You shouldn't,” J.D. says and curls his fingers, pulling Nick's hair a little. Nick is still looking at him, a little sideways, a little drunk. 

“You wanna though?” Nick asks and he shifts a little, hand curling around J.D.’s ankle.

“God,” J.D. says. Nick strokes his thumb lightly over the curve of J.D.’s ankle bone and focuses on the warm skin there, up a little further, he can feel the coarse hair on his legs and the beginning of strong muscle in his calves. He slides his hand back down. 

“You did so good,” Nick whispers, voice muffled as he turns his head, kissing lightly even though it's just skin warmed denim. J.D.’s hand doesn't move from his hair, causing the tug to be a little more prevalent. 

Nick tries not to make the desperate noise he feels catching in the back of his throat. 

“Okay,” J.D. says, “Please.”

Nick feels something prickle all the way down his spine. Feels a flush of heat and even his toes curl just in anticipation. 

“Whatever you want,” Nick says. J.D.’s hand still didn't move and Nick shifts a little, settles down on his heels and flushes as he undoes the button on J.D.’s jeans, one-sided and awkward, eyes a little downcast. 

“I can get it,” J.D. says and his hand slides from Nick’s hair which is actually sad, but he watches J.D. as he slides his zipper down. Looks at long fingers and blunted nails and Nick bites his lower lip. 

J.D. doesn't have a lot of finesse. It's obvious he isn't trying to be sexy or teasing, his movements are perfunctory. He wiggles a little, gets his jeans down just enough. Nick breathes in quickly and lays his head on J.D.’s thigh again. 

It's bared now and Nick can smell the slight musk and sweat. Nick kissed the inside of J.D.’s thigh. Dragged his teeth along it slightly. J.D. makes a noise, quiet, and spreads his legs as far as he could with his jeans around his knees. 

Nick slid his hand up on J.D.’s thigh and bit his lower lip again. Nick closed his eyes for a moment and moved a little closer. 

“You don't have to,” J.D. says. For a moment, Nick thinks about his wife and he should go but honestly he wants to. 

“I know,” Nick says, “I want to.”

His voice is a little rough and all his hesitance slips away when J.D. slides his hand back into Nick’s hair. 

Nick stops hesitating and closes the remaining distance. He balances himself with his hand on J.D.’s calf and puts his mouth around the head of his cock. 

Nick hasn't exactly done this before. And this is a weird direction of their friendship; but the alcohol helps. When Nick flickers his gaze up and sees J.D.’s eyes lidding heavily, flush already climbing on his cheeks, Nick is sunk.

J.D. swallows a little, Nick sees the movement in his throat. Nick kisses the inside of his thigh again. 

“I got you,” Nick says. And there isn't time for talk anymore. He tightens his grip on his calf, nails digging in a little, and he takes J.D. back into his mouth. 

Nick has thought about this before and J.D. tastes just like he expects. Something masculine and heavy on his tongue, a little bit like salt. Humid. Perfect. 

Nick's seen enough porn to know how to go down on a guy though. Imagined it enough to where he opens his mouth and takes J.D. deeper, sucks a little, applies pressure with his tongue. 

“God,” J.D. mumbles again and Nick feels the hitch in his hips. Nick wants to do a good job, wants J.D. to not think. To just take this. 

Nick swallows around J.D. a little, feels how he is getting bigger, swelling in his mouth. Getting harder and Nick squeezes his eyes shut. J.D.’s hand tightens in his hair and helps guide Nick down further. Nick doesn't resist. 

He pulls back, licks at J.D. a little wet and sloppy, cants his eyes down to look at him, hard and slick with saliva. Nick licks him again, watches J.D. shiver. Nick can feel the slight tremble beneath his fingertips. 

Nick sucks the head of J.D.’s cock again and focuses on the weight of his hand in his hair. Takes him in deeper because now he just wants J.D. to lose control. 

Nick suddenly needs J.D. to take it out on him. His frustrations. He knows that J.D. won't and that's all good too. He just wants this. To make him feel better. 

Nick can feel J.D. relaxing. It's all Nick wanted. Fuzzy with the alcohol and wanting to be a good teammate even when he couldn't play. Nick sucks on the head of J.D.’s cock again and closes his eyes a little tighter. 

“Nick,” J.D. says, his voice rough. And he thrusts up a little, a shallow thrust. Nick's toes curl and he tightens his grip on J.D.’s thigh. 

It falls into silence after that, except the sounds of Nick's mouth on J.D. and the low sounds that J.D. was making. 

Nick relishes it. The sound of J.D.’s breathing, harsh and desperate. The grip in his hair, the flex of his muscles as he thrusts up shallowly.  J.D.’s considerate and Nick wishes he could do more. 

That he was better at this. Nick takes J.D. down until he feels he is gonna choke on it, then pulls off and licks him again. J.D. is red everywhere. Flushed. Long lashes against his cheeks with his eyes closed. 

“You're so good, J.D.,” Nick mumbles and then he ducks in to finish the job. He leans in, braces himself with his left elbow and wraps his other hand around J.D. where he can't quite get his mouth down. 

He desyncs the rhythm, strokes in a counterpoint to the movement of his tongue and the way he hollows his cheeks to apply suction. J.D. groans above him, his shallow thrusts getting a little erratic. 

“Yeah, Nick, come on,” J.D. says, words a low moan as he kept trying to take what he wanted. “”F-fuuck you're so good.” 

J.D.’s voice was getting a little pitched, tone desperate. Nick tightens his fingers a little, opens his mouth to let some slickness out, mix of his own saliva and J.D.’s precome to help ease J.D.’s thrusts.  

J.D.’s back arches at the sudden frictionless, slick slide, deeper into Nick’s mouth. It's wet and messy and J.D.’s saying his name like a mantra. 

“G-god, god yeah,” J.D. said as he thrust up, “I'm gonna come, god Nick.” 

Nick doesn't pull off. He wants to taste J.D., he  _ needs _ to. Nick feels when it happens, the way he twists up and tenses and then Nick’s mouth is full, he swallows him down-- bitter and salty. He swallows and pulls back, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. 

J.D.’s breathing is rough, heavy and panting, chest moving fast. Nick climbs back up on the couch beside him and leans in to J.D.s side, reaches over and downs the rest of his drink. Washing down the taste with a sting of alcohol and then keeping himself nestled there against him. 

J.D. slides an arm around him. 

“Thank you, Nick,” J.D. finally says quietly and Nick reaches up to ruffle J.D.’s beard. 

“Get some sleep,” Nick says, “We got this tomorrow.” Nick promises. J.D. grumbles in quiet agreement and stands up after a moment. 

He starts towards the bedroom and Nick thinks about sleeping on the couch. Or calling a cab. But J.D. peers over the back of the couch. 

“You coming?” J.D. asks and Nick stands up to follow. In the bedroom, J.D. pushes Nick down against the bed. 

“Your turn.” J.D. says. Nick laughs at that and closes his eyes as J.D. settles his weight on him. 


End file.
